


Convalescence of a Lovesick Mind

by BlueCrownFics



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sex, Jealous Lance (Voltron), Keith pines for the old days, Klance Pinefest 2018, Langst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Acxa/Veronica (Voltron), Minor Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Panic Attacks, Rachel and Lance are fraternal twins, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, undisclosed disorder, unintentional suicide attempt, writer!lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-02-16 09:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18688975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCrownFics/pseuds/BlueCrownFics
Summary: “Did you run all the way here?” Keith asks, taking in Lance's appearance“No, I took a bus.” Lance smiles, but it's strained and almost uncomfortable to stare at. “If you left your phone in the break room, does that mean you already had lunch? Because if you didn’t, we should eat together! We haven’t done that in a while. Also—” He starts to ramble, his words jumbled and almost breathless. Keith hopes the grimace he feels on his face isn’t obvious, but the way Lance continues to speak, wide blue eyes darting across the busy office, makes him think that even if he was grimacing, Lance isn’t going to notice.The spiral is starting and Keith isn’t prepared.





	1. Chapter 1

Locked away in the privacy of his office is Lance, hunched over his keyboard as the loud _click-clack_ of keys reverberate throughout the room. His fingers are a blur as he types, the words on screen filling out page by page as he types. His eyes are set on the computer screen, his brows furrowed in concentration as he works. Lines upon lines slowly creep across the white expanse of the word document until he reaches a new page. Scrolling back up, he reads his paragraph.

Then, he reads it again.

“Oh my god,” he breathes. Blue eyes fly across the screen, absorbing every word that comes his way. “Oh no.” He bites his bottom lip. Chews it. A thin layer of skin peels off with his teeth. “No, no, _no_!”

He slams his hands on the desk, rattling its contents. The tower of notebooks tremble but hold steady. A container of paper and binder clips take the brunt of the impact. They fall over the edge of his desk and crash to the ground with a muted clatter against his carpeted floor. Dozens of paper clips and binder clips scatter across the floor, but Lance doesn’t notice, nor does he seem to care.

The page he's just written illuminates in blue then vanishes without a trace, and a blank document glares back at him. He bites his bottom lip again. One "crtl+z" later, the paragraph is back. He highlights the page, then copies and pastes it into a new file for safe keeping. He slams his forehead against his desk a second later, and a heavy, tired groan escapes his lips.

“I’m so bad at this,” he whispers to no one. The crinkled lines between his brows feel like they’re leaving permanent fissures in his skin. He rubs them subconsciously. He’s still too young for wrinkles, but not too young for stress to etch worry lines into his flesh. He would need a deep spa day soon, to keep his skin healthy and vibrant. It’d been a while since his last one. He couldn’t remember his last spa day, honestly.

Lance eyes the blank word document again. It feels like the hour of work he spent writing that one scene alone is wasted.  He doesn’t know why he bothers; why he tries. Writing is a complicated process and the more he tries to force his brain to work, the less likely it would. He stares at the date and time in the corner of his computer screen. His deadline is a month away. If he were any other writer, a month deadline would’ve been enough to get several articles in and a couple of lengthy chapters, but he isn’t “any other writer”. He's Lance.

Lance-fucking-Alvarez, a hack writer who can't keep up an update schedule for his personal works, let alone handle a deadline a month from now. Why won't this chapter write itself? Why doesn't it want to work for him?

“Akira, work with me _por favor_!” He cries. He rubs his temples in harsh, slow circles. It doesn’t do much to alleviate the headache pounding in the back of his skull, but it makes him feel less like a failure for wasting an hour on crap.

A soft knock on the door grabs Lance’s attention. He spins around in his chair just in time to catch Keith entering the office, a gentle, warm smile on his lips.

“Hey,” He greets.

“Hey,” Lance smiles. It's then he notices the box tucked carefully into Keith’s side. “What’s that?” He gestures towards it, an eyebrow raised.

“Fabric samples,” Keith responds, shifting the box from under his arm. “ Romelle thought you might want to look at them.”

Lance’s face lights up. He flies out of his chair, takes the box from Keith’s grasp and tears the lid off in one effortless sweep.

“Wow, excited much?” Keith chuckles.

Lance’s face is glowing with excitement. Inside the box are several small sheets of fabric samples Their colors vary; from the lightest, softest blue to a deep, vibrant red. Some are soft and smooth like silk, others scratchy and uncomfortable. Some are patterned, others have shimmery sheens; it's a collection of potential and Lance lays out every piece of fabric on his desk for better examination. Keith watches him with mild amusement. The fabric pieces aren’t very big; they’re only three inches in length and width. Keith is vaguely aware of what their wedding theme is supposed to be, but the various pieces of fabric Lance examines with the delicate precision of a neurosurgeon have him more confused than ever before

Lance picks up two pieces of identical-looking red fabric and holds them out for Keith to examine.

“Which one do you like better?” He asks with the seriousness of a bride—or in Lance’s case, a groom—who expects his future spouse to hold the answers to the universe. “Which one fits the theme better?”

“Uh…” Keith stares at both fabric pieces. He touches them slowly; runs his fingers along their fibers and crinkles his brows together. Under the bright lighting of Lance’s writing room, both strips of cloth look exactly the same. A deep, passionate red with possible hues of purple to darken their shades. They both feel smooth beneath his fingers and they both shimmer in the light.

“Erm.” Keith wracks his brain for an answer. “They’re, uh, they’re the same aren’t they?”

The wrinkle that sometimes appears between Lance’s eyebrows makes its presence known again as Lance’s blue eyes pierce into him critically.

“They’re not the same, _Keith_.” Lance scoffs. He holds up the first fabric in his left hand: “This is _wine_ red. It's made of silk and it has these really pretty shimmering threads through it to really make it _pop_. And this one—” He holds up the second red fabric in his right hand. “—this one’s burgundy! See? There’s more purple in this one.”

Keith snatches both fabric pieces from Lance’s hands and dangles them in front of his fiancé’s face. “They’re both red-purple, Lance.” He deadpans with an exaggerated eye roll. “Besides, I thought you were going with a blue theme for the wedding. Why do you have all of these colors here?”

Lance takes the fabric samples back with a childish pout and stuffs them into the box. He eyes the rest of the samples before stuffing them into the container.

“I can’t decide on a wedding theme.” He confesses, voice softer than Keith expects it to be. “So I had Allura pick out a bunch of colors since the fabric store is closer to the hospital.”

“What happened to the beach theme you wanted?”

“It’s too cold.”

“Under the sea?”

“It’s a wedding, not a prom date.”

Keith rolls his eyes again. “Okay then, how about we just have a regular wedding? It’s not like people care that much about the theme.”

Lance whirls on Keith, a stubborn frown etched into his face. “But _I_ care,” he cries. “I want it to be fun. Something everyone’s going to remember, just like Shiro and Adam’s wedding. Remember theirs? That whole thing was _amazing_.” He gushes, suddenly starry-eyed.

Oh yes, Keith remembers. It's hard not to. That day, Lance drank himself into a stupor and knocked over the four-tiered wedding cake before it could be served. (Not that Shiro and Adam minded. It resulted in the deadliest, most iconic food fight Keith had the pleasure of participating in. Shiro’s mother spoke of it fondly.)

“I’m pretty sure they had a regular wedding theme,” Keith says softly.

Lance doesn’t appear to be listening. He returns to his chair, the box full of fabric samples in his lap. He stares into it, a look of deep concentration occupying his face, but Keith doesn’t believe it has anything to do with the fabrics inside. He approaches his fiancé cautiously, wary of the sudden silence, of the faraway look that engrosses Lance’s expression.

As gently as he can, Keith brushes his knuckles against Lance’s cheek. It’s warm to the touch and baby soft. Lance’s skin care routine is a point of mild interest, fascination, and annoyance for Keith. He loves the way it makes his boyfriend smell at night but hates how long it takes Lance to get prepared, or how much money is sunk into getting the proper lotions and oils. Yet, as Keith’s fingers caress the soft expanse of warm, tanned skin, he realizes why Lance enjoys the routine.

Lance leans into the touch. Blue eyes flutter shut as he releases a breath he isn’t aware he's been holding.  He feels comforted by Keith’s familiar presence.

Keith scans the blank open word document. The cursor blinks back at him. It suddenly clinks into his mind why Lance’s distress is so palpable.

“How’s the writing going?” He asks.

“Terrible,” Lance moans. He pulls away from Keith’s tender touch and glares hatefully at his computer screen. “It’s like everything is working against me today! I keep changing my tenses, the sentences don’t make sense and if it’s not that it’s the characters fighting me!”

“Sounds like hell.”

“It is hell!” Lance sags into his chair, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. “My deadline is in a month, Keith!   And I can’t seem to make Akira do what I want him to do. He keeps trying to deviate from the outline and then Leandro is being just as difficult.” Lance releases a sigh so dramatic and heavy that Keith can feel it in his soul. “I’m a terrible writer, I don’t know why I try.”

“You’re not terrible--”

“Don’t try to make me feel better, Keith. I know the truth. I’m a _disaster_.”

“Well, yeah, that’s true.” Keith muses fondly.

Lance shoots him a scandalized expression.

 “But you’re not a terrible writer. You’re just a writer. One that needs a break. How long have you been writing?”

At that, Lance shrugs. “Since this morning, I guess? A few hours maybe?”

“Perfect,” Keith says with a grin. He grabs the backrest of Lance’s chair and wheels his fiancé around toward the door. “Have lunch with me. My treat.”

“Tempting,” Lance hums, letting Keith wheel his chair out the door and into the hallway. “Wait. Weren’t you busy with committee planning?”

“I’m done.” Keith steps out from behind Lance and holds out his hand. “Coming?”

The bright smile that lights up Lance’s face fills Keith with a pleasant warmth. Lance grabs Keith’s hand and follows him downstairs for lunch.

* * *

Later that day, Lance finds himself staring into a blank word document again. He watches the cursor blink methodically in place. Appearing and disappearing, over and over. It blurs before his eyes, blinking in and out of existence until the only thing Lance can see is the bright light of the monitor screen.

Something nudges him. Startled, he blinks back to reality and turns to see Keith’s concerned eyes on him.

“You zoned out again.” He says, his brows furrowing. “You okay? You’ve been doing that all day.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Lance smiles. “But I’d be way more fine if this story would write itself.”

“Maybe you should work on something else. You’ve been trying to work on it all day.”

“Yeah, I guess I should.” Lance exits out of the program and stares blankly at his laptop background.

It's an image of him and Keith, taken during their earlier stages of dating. Keith rarely smiled in photographs, but he did in this one. Lance had an arm wrapped around his shoulder, his arm extended out for the picture. Keith held onto him by the waist, his attention not drawn by the cell phone camera, but by Lance’s face. The soft smile that stood frozen in place was so unbelievably tender and unexpected that Lance can still feel his stomach flutter every time he stares at the image. The adoration glowing in Keith’s eyes then, and now, leaves him feeling speechless.

He feels embarrassment crawl up the nape of his neck as he stares. It only worsens when Keith’s perceptive eyes fall on him again. He slams the laptop shut with a dramatic moan then curls into Keith’s side. Keith chuckles.

“What are you doing?” Lance asks after a moment of silence.

“Work.”

“Ugh, gross. Before bed?”

“Isn’t that what you were doing earlier?”

“Yeah, but I have a deadline. You do this for fun.”

“I don’t do this for fun, it’s my job.”

Lance’s long, slender fingers reach out from the depths of their bed sheets and trails the length of Keith’s laptop monitor. They curl delicately around the corner then snap it shut with such speed that Keith barely has enough time to remove his fingers.

“Lance—” Keith protests, turning his attention toward Lance, but his words die in his throat the moment he comes face to face with those penetrating dark blue eyes. Lance slides the laptop from Keith’s lap, carelessly discarding it to another part of their bed, just as he’d done to his before he slides himself into Keith’s lap. With his legs on either side of Keith's hips, Lance settles himself comfortably on top of his fiancé.

“We haven’t done this in a while,” He grins, drawing close. The tips of their noses are barely a breath away; Lance’s lips dangle tantalizingly close over Keith’s own. “Maybe instead of working, we could have some fun?”

Keith’s hands slide upward from Lance’s thighs to his hips where they settle comfortably beneath Lance’s nightshirt. He rubs small, methodical circles into Lance’s skin, his fingers are warm, yet rough from years of abuse. The lazy smile that spreads languidly across his face makes Lance’s stomach flip.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, voice deep and gruff. “I like fun.”

Lance’s grin is almost feral. He crashes their lips together, desperate and hungry. His fingers fumble for the hem of Keith’s nightshirt as they kiss, but neither of them wants to pull away to undress. Their mouths ravish each other; their breaths hot, but their bodies hotter. Keith’s hands leave their place on Lance’s hips in order to flip them over until Keith hovers over Lance’s steadily overheating body. For a moment, they stare into each other’s eyes, minds blank, hearts a wild, beating mess. Lance cranes his neck for Keith’s lips again and drags him down into their kiss…

* * *

He finds himself staring into the blank word document for the umpteenth time that week. Lance situates himself comfortably in bed, his body deliciously sore from his night time activity with Keith. He steals a glance to the left, wary of the brightness of his laptop screen as Keith sleeps next to him, turned in the opposite direction. The soft rise and fall of Keith’s breathing captivates Lance as he watches. Images of Akira and Leandro fill his mind.

He knows what he wants; he's planned how the story will go and even gone so far as to outline the chapters that won’t let him sleep, and yet when it came to actually writing, Lance is at a loss.

His fingers hover over the keyboard. A thousand and one words dance in his mind. Sentences are constructed and deconstructed; scenes play out before his very eyes, but nothing— _nothing_ —seems to make sense. He bites his bottom lip. Tears the skin right off again. He grimaces from the pain. He tore too deep. The taste of copper dances on his tongue.

He feels hot again; his skin oddly itchy and his shoulders tense. He rolls them into circles, feeling the painful tightness that lay beneath his flesh. His joints snap and pop as he moves. He feels so, so hot. Blue eyes fall on Keith again.

He sucks the blood from his lip.

He curls Keith’s hair around his index finger. He frowns. When did he start playing with it? Why does it matter? He watches, with mild fascination, as Keith’s jet black hair curls around and around his finger until he can’t curl it anymore. Keith’s hair is long, longer than it has any right to be. It’s still a mullet—much to Lance’s dismay—but it looks wilder and freer now than it did back when they first met. It fits Keith’s ruggedness better now.  And it's soft; as soft as a feather and black as night. Lance both hates and loves the wild mane Keith calls his hair, and no matter what Lance does to get his fiancé to tame it, Keith doesn't seem to care either way. He leaves it loose and free, and sometimes, when he _really_ wants Lance to notice, he would tie it back into a half-ponytail.

Sometimes, Lance braids it. Other times—most times—Lance pulls on it. Suddenly, images of last night replay in his mind’s eye. Lance squeezes his thighs together, his heart suddenly racing.

 _Focus, Lance. Focus!_ He chides himself and turns his attention back to the forgotten laptop on his lap.  The black cursor blinks innocently back at him. Keith’s soft puff of breath tears his attention away in a flash. He stares at Keith’s back, waiting. Watching. His fiancé doesn’t move.

He turns his attention back to the blank screen. The cursor continues to blink.

The love bites on his neck feel heavy and wet despite having dried hours ago. Suddenly, Keith’s touch ghosts against his thigh. He stares hard at Keith, but his lover remains unmoving. Lance fidgets. He replays last night in his mind; can almost feel the way Keith’s fingers trace along the inside of his thighs; can almost feel how magical Keith’s tongue had felt, lapping and sucking against flesh. The salty taste that is indisputably Keith returns on Lance’s tongue.

He licks his lips. It tastes like blood.

Heat pools into his groin.

“Fuck it,” he groans. He sets his laptop aside and curls into Keith’s back until he’s spooning the older male. “Keeeeeeeith,” he whines. “Wake up. Let’s go again.”

Keith’s sleepy grunt is the only response he gets.

“Come on, come on. You’re off tomorrow right? Let’s go again.” He rolls the other male over and pats him lightly on the cheek. “Wake up. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“Ugh, Lance,” Keith groans. He tries to swipe Lance’s hands away but fails miserably. Lance continues to tap his face. “Stop. Go to sleep.”

“I did sleep. Now it’s time to wake up. 

Keith tries to roll away from Lance’s embrace, but the younger boy’s weight pins him to the bed. Lance isn’t heavier than Keith, but had Keith been more coherent, he would’ve had no trouble escaping from Lance’s clutches. But a sleepy Keith was a weak Keith. And a sleepy Keith meant Lance’s proposals were far more convincing.

Lance grinds their groins together experimentally. Keith’s body tenses from the friction; a spike of heat roars to life in the pit of Lance’s stomach. He rocks his hips again, cautious and slow. Keith’s hands wrap around his waist, holding him still.

“Lance, seriously?” His fiancé grumbles. “We just had sex.”

“Let's do it again.”

“It’s late. You should sleep.”

“Actually, it’s early. It’s 5 AM.” Keith sends him a heated glare. “Oh come on! It’s not like you weren’t getting up soon. Don’t you wake up in the unholy hours of the morning?”

“For work,” Keith grumbles. “I’m supposed to be off today.”

“Ugh,” Lance rolls off of his grumpy fiancé and falls flat on his back on his side of the bed. “You’re such a buzzkill, Mullet.”

“Oh, so I’m ‘mullet’ now?” Keith laughs despite his grumpiness. “Lance, I know your sex drive is notorious, but even for you this is too much.”

“I guess,” he grumbles. He watches Keith adjust in bed until they’re lying face to face. “It’s just… I don’t know. I’m having a hard time with this story.”

“I know you are, but you need to stop forcing it. Let it come to you.” Keith’s fingers brush his cheek gently. The adoration in his eyes catches Lance off guard. It fills him with a sense of comfort and eases the heat of arousal. He shifts closer for more contact, a part of him desiring Keith’s closeness in a way that wouldn’t be satisfied through sex alone. A tender smile graces Keith’s face before it morphs into a playful, teasing smirk. “Now go back to sleep. We have to look at venues tomorrow.”

Lance’s eyes snap open. “I FORGOT ABOUT THAT!”


	2. Chapter 2

When announcement of their engagement first got out, Lance was excited. He adores weddings. Not only does he enjoy taking part in them or being there for his loved ones, but he also enjoys planning them. Helping Shiro prepare for his wedding was vastly different for Lance than planning for his own. Last year, he’d been brimming with ideas. He wanted a themed wedding, one fitting of who they were as people, which told the story of their romance, just like how Shiro and Adam had planned their wedding and just like how Allura planned hers.

Now, Lance gnaws on the stubby end of his nail, blue eyes zeroing in on every possible detail of the venue they're visiting. Keith and Shiro stroll along beside him as Romelle gives them a detailed tour of the hotel’s ballroom. The hotel itself is as ritzy as they can get, definitely far beyond what was in their wedding budget, but a beautiful dream he's willing to put them into debt for. The ballroom itself is a different story.

It is large and spacious, with marble columns in select corners of the room and beautifully selected red and gold patterned wallpaper adorning the walls. Hanging from the ceiling, high above them, are various heavy, impressively designed crystal chandeliers. The ceiling itself is painted; depicting imagery of angels, demons, and Gods among humans. The windows are as tall as the ceiling is high, covered in maroon colored drapes that cascade down to the ground with impressive length. The floor is freshly waxed and bounces the light from the chandelier so perfectly, it makes the room seem brighter than it is.

Lance only has one word to describe the ballroom: majestic. Keith, on the other hand, has thought of several, all of which imply “gaudy”, “expensive” and “no way.”

Romelle turns on her heel the moment they reach the end of the ballroom and flash her guests with a bright, gorgeous smile. “Well, what do you think?” She asks.

“I love it!” Lance beams. He whirls on Keith and Shiro, eyes alight with wonder. “What do you guys think?”

Keith and Shiro exchange a glance.

“Yeah, no. This place is way out of our budget.”

Lance’s hopes and dreams crumble in a flash. Keith braces himself for the backlash.

“You’ve turned down every venue we’ve visited!” He cries. “Come on, Keith! This _has_ to be it!”

“Lance, do you see this place?” He says, spreading out his arms in an attempt to showcase the entire ballroom.

“ _Yes_ , and it's gorgeous. Do _you_ see this place?”

“It’s expensive,” Keith deadpans. “C’mon, Romelle, isn’t there someplace that isn’t going to put us in debt?"

Lance hangs his head in defeat while Romelle whips out her phone and checks the list of locations she prepared for them today. Beside him, Shiro marvels over the scene. He whistles lowly, eyeing the dizzyingly high chandelier to the heavy drapes against the walls.

“Adam would have a heart attack if he saw this place.” He murmurs.

“We should have brought Adam,” Lance exclaims suddenly. “He would’ve agreed with me!”

“No he wouldn’t,” Keith scoffs, sounding almost offended at the notion. Lance sticks out his tongue at Keith childishly.

“We do have another location to go to,” Romelle says, interrupting them. She scrolls through the list of venues for a moment, ignorant to the curious stares Shiro and Keith give her. “It’s a bit far from here, though, but I do believe it’ll be better for your pockets!” She giggles sweetly.

“Heh, lay it on me.” Keith grins. He pulls out his phone and gravitates toward Romelle’s location. Lance watches them quietly, his mind suddenly humming.

Romelle is a longtime friend of Allura’s. From what Lance has gathered, they met in high school and are still relatively close.

Though they were closer as kids, life eventually pulled them apart. Allura went to medical school while Romelle continued education in a different field, but ultimately, she found her calling through event planning. Allura had been the one who recommended her to them once they announced their proposal and while Lance, who may have once upon a time found her cute and easy to talk to, is overcome by an odd, unpleasant thought.

He watches her closely. Lance feels like he's truly noticing Romelle for the first time, despite having known her for nearly two years. She stands a few inches away from Keith, phone still in her hand as they speak. His mind buzzes, drowning out their conversation, but her amicable smile lights up her face in a way that showcases her cuteness. She’s a short woman, with a button nose, and wide, expressive, lilac colored eyes. She has long, gorgeous blonde hair that is tied in a braid. It cascades down her back like a waterfall and whips from side to side when she walks or laughs. She’s a bubbly and sweet woman, but very fierce. She’s always been kind to everyone, but Lance has pushed her buttons once or twice, especially when it comes to wedding planning.

But never in the two years, Lance has known her has he ever thought of her as someone to be wary of. The way she handles herself around Keith, her sweet smile, the glow in her eyes, everything about her today makes the fine hairs on Lance’s neck rise. She giggles at something—he has no idea what—and then rests her hand on Keith’s shoulder.

Something drops unpleasantly into the pit of Lance’s stomach. He scowls.

He bumps into Keith’s side with more aggression than he needs and slides his fingers into Keith’s open hand. Romelle’s joyous expression morphs into confusion.

“Lance?” Keith frowns. “What—”

“So are you going to show us the new venue or what?” Lance interrupts. He squeezes Keith’s hand tightly as though worried his fiancé would pull away and gives Romelle a steely, but pointed stare.

Romelle’s blonde eyebrows disappear into her hairline. “Oh, erm, of course! But, um, are you alright?”

“Oh yeah,” He says flippantly. “Totally fine. You know, just waiting for my wedding planner to do her actual job instead of flirting with _my_ fiancé.”

“Lance—!”

“I beg your pardon?” She gaps indignantly. “I am _not_ flirting with Keith. I don’t find him particularly interesting at all! No offense, Keith.” She adds as an afterthought, but Keith doesn’t care.

He stares, slack-jawed, at Lance while Shiro quietly inserts himself between them and lays a gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder.

“I think we should get going,” He says with a strained, diplomatic smile. Almost effortlessly, he steers both Lance and Keith away from Romelle and toward the door. “We’ll meet you at the next venue, Romelle. Please excuse us.”

“Yeah, no problem!” She shoots back, watching them go.

The moment they are out of the ballroom and halfway through the ritzy lobby, Keith pulls Lance aside.

“What the hell was that?” He whispers harshly, wary of the other patrons in the room. Lance refuses to meet his gaze, the ghost of a pout still on his lips.

Shiro hangs back, allowing them their privacy, but hesitant on leaving them behind. Instead, he chooses to occupy himself with the paintings hanging on the walls of the grand lobby.

“Lance,” Keith tries again, voice stern. “That was completely uncalled for. You know Romelle isn’t like that.”

“I know,” he grumbles. “It just happened, okay? My mouth-to-brain filter failed.”

“Clearly,” Keith deadpans. He squeezes Lance’s hand reassuringly and presses Lance’s knuckles to his lips. “You haven’t had a jealous episode in ages. What were you thinking?”

Lance shortens the distance between them, watching the way Keith presses tender kisses on his knuckles. He shrugs, distracted by his fiancé’s ministrations.

“I don’t know. I just had a thought and I reacted without realizing it.” He murmurs eventually. “I think it’s cute the way you try to reassure me.” He adds with a sly grin.

“Yeah, well,” Keith mutters, turning away suddenly. The tips of his ears tinge pink in embarrassment. Lance’s grin grows wider. “Shiro, we’re ready. Shiro?”

Keith and Lance find him staring intently at a large painting. It's an abstract piece, with dark hues of colors as the background and a splash of vibrant yellows and whites in the center. It looks like an explosion of light amidst a hurricane of negativity. Shiro rubs his chin, transfixed by the piece. Several others stand around, quietly discussing and eyeing the painting before they move on with the rest of their day. Yet, Shiro remains.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Keith quirks an eyebrow. He stares at the piece then at Shiro then at the painting again. “Are you having a moment?”

“This is fascinating.”

“It’s a painting,” Lance quips. He gives Keith a confused stare. Keith merely shrugs.

“It’s more than just a painting,” Shiro murmurs, sounding almost offended that they had the _audacity_ to call it “just a painting”. Neither Keith nor Lance are sure when Shiro acquired a taste for the finer arts. “It’s hope and desire all in one place.” He finishes, giving them both an expectant look.

“Uh, okay.” Neither boy had a clue what he was talking about. “Who is it by?”

“Y.K. He’s great. I love his works.” Shiro suddenly turns to them, a pleasant smile on his face. “So the venue?”

* * *

The next venue Romelle takes them to is another hotel. This time, it isn’t quite as extravagant as the last one, but their ballroom was just as functional. It may have been smaller and not nearly as grand, the chandeliers are smaller and have fewer crystals; the draperies don't hang from the ceiling and there are no grand, renaissance paintings overhead. It's a sizeable place, with thinner drapes and clean walls. A set of double glass doors leads out into the garden where a couple of tables and chairs can be stored if the need arises. The garden itself is a sight to behold, large as it is—smaller than the ballroom, of course—but still quite a marvel with its collection of flower assortments.

There are several statues placed strategically throughout the garden and only one gazebo decorated in fairy lights with vines adorning the entrance. Lance stares transfixed by the gazebo. Various scenarios play out in his mind, all of them involving the gazebo and the garden. The ballroom is nice, but the garden was its best feature.

He turns to Keith with eyes full of excitement. Keith laughs.

“Yeah, I like it too.” He smirks. He glances over his shoulder to Shiro, who stands beside Romelle, admiring the vines crawling up the sides of the building. “What do you guys think?”

“I like it,” Shiro says, turning to them. “But my opinion doesn’t matter. What do _you_ guys think?”

“It’s perfect!” Lance beams. “Why didn’t you show us this sooner, Romelle?!”

“I tried to earlier,” She huffs. “It was the first one I selected but I seem to recall _someone_ wanting to see the more extravagant venues.” The pointed glare she sends Lance’s way makes Shiro and Keith sigh in defeat. But Lance doesn’t seem to notice or care. He continues to stare across the garden, a dreamy expression in his eyes.

Keith can feel his body grow warm. “Hey,” He whispers, suddenly not wanting to ruin Lance’s moment of tranquility. The image of what happened earlier is still fresh in his mind. “I’m going to discuss prices with Romelle. I’ll be back, okay?” Keith glances in Shiro’s direction. He gestures him silently over then cautiously leaves Lance’s side.

Shiro fills the empty space beside Lance almost seamlessly. He hovers by Lance’s side, feeling just as tranquil as the Cuban boy. They stand together in silence, breathing in the flowery scented air and the listening to the soft trickle of water from the nearby fountains.

Lance approaches the gazebo slowly, as though wary his footsteps would disturb the serenity of the garden. The gazebo doesn't creak as he climbs the steps nor does it groan the deeper he ventures. He stands in the center of the structure, his heart beat loud in his ears. Shiro watches him, curious but silent. Lance turns to him then, an expression of disbelief etched into his face.

“This is really happening, huh?”

Shiro chuckles. “Trust me, it’s going to get more surreal when the time finally comes.”

Lance bites his lip. “We haven’t seen our suits yet.” He traces his fingers along the wooden railing. It was smooth beneath his touch. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”

Shiro’s smile is warm and reassuring. “You guys deserve happiness, Lance. You’ve both been through a lot.”

“Yeah,” He sighs distantly, his attention turning elsewhere.

Shiro’s smile falters. He follows Lance’s gaze toward the ballroom where Romelle and Keith are locked in an important conversation. Shiro joins Lance in the gazebo with a determined air about him.

“Hey Lance, how’s your story coming along?”

Lance jerks away from the wooden railing, his face contorting into something akin to terror. Shiro holds up his hands in a placating gesture, an apologetic smile already plastered on his lips.

“Sorry. Should I not have brought that up?”

“No, no! It’s fine. It’s just… It’s been a struggle.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shiro leans his weight against the railing. He crosses his arms against his burly chest. “Tell me about it. Maybe I can help?”

“I don’t know. What do you know about it so far?”

“That depends. Which story is this? Is this the cyberpunk one you were talking about a few months ago or is this the one with the Phantom Thieves?”

“Cyberpunk,” Lance sighs heavily. He joins Shiro’s side of the gazebo and drapes himself dramatically over the edge. “Akira and Leandro are a nightmare to deal with. At least _Ren_ doesn’t give me issues, even if he keeps changing my outline.”

Shiro’s hearty laugh echoes across the garden.

“It’s not funny,” Lance grumbles. “I’m being serious. They’re spoiled rotten!”

“They’re also your characters,” Shiro grins. He rubs a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “You talk about them like they’re actual kids. It’s nice. Cute even.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

“And I won’t be the last. Tell me more about what’s going on.”

“Well, uh…” Lance wracks his brain for answers. How could he simplify a story Shiro had no idea about? “Uh… well, it’s cyberpunk, so, like, stuff happens. And, uh… there’s Akira who has this cool motorcycle and then there’s Leandro, who’s like… cool.”

Shiro quirks an amused eyebrow.

“And.. uh…” Lance frowns. Too many scenes flash through his mind. From his story’s beginning to the countless discarded drafts he doesn’t have the heart to delete, Lance finds it difficult to formulate his thoughts. He struggles with his tongue; growing more and more frustrated the harder he tries.

His eyes turn back toward the ballroom—his brain freezes.

Romelle and Keith are gone.

Anxiety pools into his stomach.

“I don’t—I’m sorry—I need the bathroom.” Lance springs into action. He hurries out of the gazebo and back into the ballroom. He hears Shiro’s distant calls for him but his body moves on autopilot. He rushes past other patrons and tourists in the lobby nearly runs into a maid and slams into the door of the men’s bathroom. It swings open with his momentum and he tumbles into the toilet stall. His stomach heaves.

* * *

Keith returns to the ballroom and nearly crashes into a frantic looking Shiro. He opens his mouth, a query on his tongue, but Shiro beats him to the punch: “It’s Lance.”

Panic shoots throughout his body. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I think he ran to the bathroom.”

Keith bolts, leaving Shiro behind. With more grace than Lance’s mad dash across the lobby, Keith finds himself in the men’s bathroom. Every stall is open except for one. He hears the painful, unpleasant heave of someone trying to vacate their stomach but the lack of splashing fills him with a sense of relief. He hovers anxiously in front of the closed door and knocks cautiously.

“Lance? Are you okay?”

“No,” the poor boy croaks. “I’m heaving in the bathroom of a hotel. Do you really think I’m okay?!”

Keith leans heavily into the door, his body trembling slightly from the anxiety running through his veins. “Open up, Babe. I’ll take you home.”

Lance’s weary groan is the only complaint he receives. He opens the door soon after and drops dramatically into Keith’s arms. He allows the older boy to examine him from head to toe and sighs in relief once they start leaving.

* * *

The ride back home is filled with silence. Lance feels too weary to properly explain to Keith what happened and the more Keith presses, the less responsive Lance becomes. In the end, they fall silent, and Lance allows himself to fall into a false sense of tranquility as the world whooshes by them. He’s aware of the sneaky glances Keith gives him, can practically sense his fiance’s eyes raking him up and down, torn between wanting to make sure he’s okay and keeping his eyes on the road. Heat pools into the pit of Lance’s stomach and he tries his best to will the unnecessary arousal away. He squirms lightly in the passenger seat.

It’s not until their car pulls up into the driveway of their small, humble home that Keith finally gives Lance his undivided attention. He shuts off the engine, heaves a heavy sigh and then turns toward Lance. His dark bangs fall over his violet colored eyes from the movement, his brows furrowed in concern.

“We need to talk about today,” he says. “That whole thing with Romelle earlier? What happened?”

Lance unbuckles the seat belt yet remains in place. He plays with a loose thread from his shirt.

“I don’t know,” He mutters, voice quiet. “I just… didn’t like how close to you she was.”

Keith can’t fight the grimace that flashes across his face. He knows Lance is the jealous type; knows that Lance has had rough experiences with romantic relationships and while theirs wasn’t a cakewalk at first, Keith thought they were secure enough to keep his fiance’s jealousy at bay.

“Lance,” Keith begins, suddenly feeling hesitant. The way Lance avoids his gaze and chooses to play with the loose string that dangles harmlessly from the hemming of his t-shirt fills Keith with a sense of uneasiness. “Romelle is a friend.”

“I _know_ ,” Lance huffs, thin brows furrowing together. He finally tears his eyes away from the string and settles Keith an intense look. “I know she is and I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“And the bathroom?”

“I think lunch didn’t agree with me.”

Keith doesn’t look convinced and a spike of anxiety shoots into Lance’s veins when he looks like he’s about to question Lance further. But instead, Keith runs a hand through his hair and he sighs. He reaches out toward Lance, wraps warm, calloused fingers around the younger boy’s neck and pulls him forward until their foreheads connect lightly.

Lance tries to pull away, suddenly self-conscious about the way he smells despite only dry heaving in the bathroom, but Keith holds onto him firmly. He rubs soothing circles with his thumb against the nape of Lance’s neck. The anxiety that gnaws in the back of Lance’s mind starts to settle down.

“Hey,” Keith murmurs. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?’

A soft smile splits across Lance’s face. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good. You feeling alright for dinner?”

Lance nods lightly. The smile Keith gives him is bright and gorgeous, and suddenly, Lance feels like everything is right in the world again. They nuzzle noses for a moment then exit the car and make their way home.

* * *

Lance rubs the underside of his jaw slowly. It still aches from gagging and despite how many hours have passed, Lance finds massaging his facial muscles helps ease the pain. It’s also a great distraction from the dark thoughts that seem to be circulating around in his brain. It’s nearly midnight, and his dinner with Keith was hours ago. His stomach grumbles in complaint, the desire to eat a snack growing stronger and stronger, yet he remains in his chair as his fingers return to typing.

He’s finally on a roll. The story he sees unfolding in his mind’s eye flows easily onto the white screen. The words snap together like jigsaw pieces and he fears the moment he turns away from the computer, he’ll break the spell. Akira is _finally_ working with him, and Lance can’t help the giddy feeling of relief that floods into his veins the higher the word count goes. He’ll get this chapter finished before midnight, he’s almost certain. He has one more scene to go, he just needs to keep focusing!

His phone vibrates beside him. The screen lights up with a notification, and although he can’t quite make out who it is from the corner of his eye, Lance’s brain decides the distraction is enough to snap the muses out of attention. The flowing river of words stop, his thoughts derail; Lance’s fingers screw up their placement and the last sentence he’s written comes out like a series of key smashes. The good mood he’s managed to fall into since his dinner with Keith sours. Frustration crawls up the nape of his neck and he smashes his fists against either side of his keyboard, a barely restrained curse leaving his lips.

“No, no, no, come on, please!” He begs, frantically backspacing his most recent sentence. “What was it? Think! _Think!_ ” He slams the palms of his hands against his forehead, hoping the pain would be enough to jog his memory, but whatever image he’d been trying to describe earlier is gone. His muses sputter then flat line.

“ _Fuck!_ ” He murmurs, leaning back into his chair. He releases a long, drawn-out sigh and sags deeper into his computer chair. It’s unfair. He was in the zone! He just had one more scene!

Resigned to his fate, Lance eyeballs his cell phone lying innocently on his desk. He reaches for it and checks his notifications; the name that flashes across the screen makes heat bloom across his chest. It’s a text from Keith, who is most likely waiting for him in their bedroom, but it’s not a question of where Lance is or a virtual goodnight kiss.

 

Mullet Babe ♥ 11:45 PM: Romelle says the venue is good to go for us.

Mullet Babe ♥ 11:45 PM: She wants to confirm a few other things with you about the wedding though.

 

Lance’s eyes hyper-focus on Romelle’s name before he realizes it. He spends a good few minutes staring, his hands suddenly trembling as unwanted images of Romelle invade his mind. He can practically feel the irrational thoughts creeping up on him; thoughts of her pretty little smile and her cute giggle, the way her hips sway when she’s walking, the hand on Keith’s shoulder. Romelle smiling at Keith—Romelle leaning into Keith. Romelle touching _his_ Keith—

Anxiety pools into Lance’s veins and before he realizes it, his smartphone is flying across the room. It lands with a thud behind him and slides to a stop by the other wall. He spins his chair around, eyeing the contraption in confusion. He doesn’t recall throwing the phone over his shoulder or why his knee jerk reaction was to do so, but the thoughts of Romelle laying her grubby little hands all over his fiancé plays on repeat in his head. He turns back to his computer, saves the progress he’s made and shuts it down.

 _I need to see Keith._ His mind chants as he moves, there’s a desperate edge to his thoughts that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. A dangerous heat pools into the pit of his stomach again. He ignores it. 

He bursts into the bedroom dramatically, which earns him an unamused stare from his fiancé. Keith’s phone is still in his hands, most likely waiting for Lance’s reply, He opens his mouth, but Lance seals the distance between them and practically jumps him on the spot. Their lips crash into a hard, unpleasant smack, and the weight of Lance’s body shoves Keith further into the mattress. Lance’s kiss is desperate and hungry; he pulls Keith’s lips apart and uses his tongue to explore the rest, savoring the taste of mint and something sweet. Keith chuckles beneath him; he lets the younger man straddle his waist and despite the late hour, he lets Lance enthusiastically explore his pale skin

 


	3. Chapter 3

Lance wakes up to an empty bed the following morning. He’s sore from their ministrations and surprisingly tired despite the deep sleep he fell into right after. He eyes Keith’s side of the bed and spreads his hands across the mattress. The sheets are cool to the touch. Keith must’ve left hours ago.

Lance doesn’t bother staring at the clock. Instead, he rolls onto Keith’s side of the bed and buries his face into his fiancé’s pillow. It smells like the shampoo he uses mixed in with the musky scent Lance knows and loves. It’s familiar and comforting, being surrounded by Keith’s distant scent. It eases the growing anxiety that gnaws at the back of his mind, but it’s not enough. He wraps himself beneath his blankets and snaps his eyes shut in an attempt to fall back asleep. He doesn't have much planned for today. He knows he still needs to reach out to Romelle to answer whatever question she has in regards to the wedding and the deadline of his latest chapter is still looming uncomfortably over his head. But Lance can’t bring himself to care. He’s content with waiting in bed for Keith’s return.

_If_ he returns.

Lance’s eyes fly open.

He’s not sure where the thought came from or why it makes every muscle in his body tense. He grips the bed sheets tightly.

“What am I thinking? Of course, he’ll come back. He always does. It’s just _work_.” He chastises himself with a frown.

_Work with Axca and Zethrid._ The voice in his head continues.

Lance scoffs. He flips onto his right side, facing the doorway. “Neither of them care for Keith like that,” He grumbles. “Axca is dating Veronica. She’s literally my future sister-in-law.”

_But that didn’t stop her from having a crush on him._ The voice in his head purrs. _Keith is too stupidly hot for his own good. He’s oblivious! Most of his co-workers probably check him out on a regular basis and he’d never know._ You _would never know._

Lance finds himself sitting up slowly, his limbs trembling again. He can hear the voice of rationality fight against his insecurities, urging him to keep himself from overreacting, but Lance has never been good at keeping himself from getting worked up over the thoughts in his head. Keith’s coworkers are always a taboo subject for him to think about, especially lately, when Keith’s job has kept him away from him for long periods of time. Back then, Lance had writing to fall back on to keep his mind distracted. But lately, it's been getting harder and harder to keep himself focused on the tasks at hand without his mind circling back to Keith. Romelle’s closeness yesterday is only one instance in a long line of them.

The mounting panic growing inside him intensifies and Lance jerks out of bed with frantic movements. He hurries back into his office, snatches the phone he’s discarded from off the floor and collapses haphazardly into his computer chair. He opens up the chat with Keith and types a hasty text.

 

**Lance 10:12 AM:** Hey babe <3 just woke up. Hows your day going so far? I miss you <3

 

There’s more he wants to say, but just like with writing, Lance’s thoughts are too scattered to put down into words. He swings his chair slowly with a foot, waiting for Keith’s response. Seconds pass into minutes as he waits. Five minutes into ten minutes—Lance’s anxiety worsens.

 

**Lance 10:30 AM:** Are you with Axca? What kind of job do you have today?

**Lance 10:31 AM** : I was thinking about the wedding theme. I think maybe we should go with something classic?

**Lance 10:33 AM:** I know your working Keith, but I’m really curious as to what you’re doing??

**Lance 10:40 AM:** What’s Axca doing? Are you alone with her? Babe why aren’t you answering me back??

 

A series of scenarios play unwantedly in Lance’s mind, and each and every one of them had Keith being seduced by familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Lance hastily swipes through his phone for a familiar name. He finds it in a flash, presses it and tries not to chew on the end of his thumbnail as he waits. The dial tone on the other end rings once, twice—Lance manages to tear off the tip of his thumbnail by the time he hears the dial tone ends.

Hunk’s sleepy, but vibrant voice fills the other end. “Hey Lance,” He yawns. “What’s up? It’s kinda early.”

“Hunk, it's almost eleven.”

“Is it? Oh yeah, it is. Wow, I guess I must’ve slept later than I initially thought.” Lance hears Hunk move around for a moment, most likely crawling out of bed. “What’s on your mind today, buddy?’

Lance doesn’t hesitate. He dives headfirst into the root of the problem and can’t seem to stop himself once he’s started. The images of Romelle, Acxa, Zethrid and every other person that’s ever walked in and out of Keith’s life, flash before Lance’s eyes as he speaks. Hunk is silent for the entirety of the tirade, and while Lance doesn’t think he’s been talking for too long, he realizes he’s gone on a tangent.

He stops himself with a dramatic sigh and collapses right back into his computer chair. He doesn’t remember when he got up to pace or how long he’d been doing so, but considering how winded he feels, he must’ve been burning circles into his floor.

“Sorry, I’m done,” He says at last. “Point is, he’s not responding and it’s been an hour already. I think he’s cheating on me, Hunk.”

“Whoa, _whoa!_ ” Hunk’s voice spills out from the smartphone speakers louder than Lance thinks is necessary. “How did you jump from ‘he’s not responding’ to “he’s cheating”? Lance, he’s probably just busy with work. It’s no big deal.”

“Hunk, Keith _always_ responds to my messages. He never leaves me hanging.” Lance presses. As if to prove his point, he switches Hunk onto speaker mode and searches through his texting history with Keith. “Okay, well, he responds to me _most_ of the time,” He grumbles. “But that’s not the point! The point is, he’s _always available!_ ”

More muffled sounds come from the speaker as Hunk travels in his home. Lance isn’t sure what his best friend was doing up until then or if he had anything planned for today, but he hopes he’s not interfering with his best friend’s schedule. Hunk's a busy man after all. It takes a lot of energy and passion to run his own restaurant business, but from Lance can recall, he had a lot of capable hands on his team. The fact that he was still asleep up until now makes Lance feel more assured in his decision to call Hunk.

“Listen, Lance, I know you get kinda weird whenever Keith doesn’t, like, _respond_ the way you want him to, but I’m pretty sure he’s not doing anything that would warrant your paranoia.”  

“I’m not being paranoid, Hunk!” The silence that stretches between them is telling. Lance can practically see the deadpanned expression on Hunk’s face. “Okay, maybe I am a little but—”

“More like a lot,” Hunk interjects with a laugh. “Dude, you get super paranoid about stuff like this. You always did. Remember when you guys first started dating and—”

“Yeah, Hunk, I do,” Lance snaps, irritation crawling in his veins. He was already agitated with thoughts of Romelle and Acxa floating around in his head, he didn’t want to think back to a time in which he thought Keith had a thing for _Shiro_ too. “C’mon man, can you at least take this seriously? I’m really freaking out here.”

Hunk’s sigh carries through the phone. “Lance, please trust me on this. I’m your best friend, right? Would I ever lie to you?”

“If you thought it’d make me feel better then yes.”

“Okay, fair point, but stuff like this is serious. He’s not cheating on you with any of his coworkers. He’s super, madly in love with you and you’re going to get married to each other. Trust me when I say that nothing is going to go wrong, okay?”

The finality in Hunk’s voice makes Lance feel calm. A part of his mind—most likely the rational part that’s been screaming at him lately—believes Hunk is right. His anxiety over Keith and the imaginary men and women who want him is something Lance’s been struggling with since… forever. It’s a bad habit, and try as Lance might, despite their many years together, he still couldn’t shake it.

Lance allows himself a moment of silence. He mulls over Hunk’s words and takes a deep, calming breath. The patience Hunk has for him is undeserved, but much appreciated. Hunk is a saint in every aspect of the word.

“Thanks, buddy,” Lance murmurs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it get the better of me.”

“It’s okay man. It happens,” Hunk says and it doesn’t surprise Lance that he knows the older boy means it. “I know how you get. You’re valid.”

Lance chuckles. He’s about to say something else when his smartphone pings with a notification. He stares at the screen and feels his heart leap into his throat. It’s from Keith.

 

Mullet Babe♥ 12:03 PM:  Keith is busy. He’ll get back to you later. – Acxa

 

His blood runs cold and panic seeps into his limbs. His ears start to buzz and he’s positive Hunk is trying to gain his attention through the speakers of the phone, but Lance is too preoccupied, hyper-fixated on Acxa’s name.

“Uh, Lance? Are you still there? Lance—”

The call drops, but Lance doesn’t notice. He’s in a flurry of mindless movements, dashing around the house to prepare himself to leave. With his face and teeth washed, his hair brushed and his clothes switched into a proper daytime outfit, Lance dashes out of the house and heads for the bus stop.

He wasn’t going to let Acxa get away with this.

* * *

 

The _Zarkon & Honerva Relief Foundation_, or ZaHRF as Lance liked to call it, is surprisingly busy and Keith hopes it’s not a rising trend for the rest of the week. With the amount of work still left to do thanks to last week’s committee planning disaster—not to mention his impending wedding day in the horizon—Keith wants to make sure his division in the committee is, at least, prepared to stand on their own feet without him there. He’s grateful for the quiet lull in the world today. The last few natural disasters weren’t as wide scale as to need their entire office building on deck, and with the seasons changing into the warm days of summer, Keith knows that this tranquil lull in the weather is only temporary.

Even then, he hopes to be on his honeymoon with Lance by the time things get worse. Getting lost in the Caribbean with his husband-to-be sounds more and more appealing with each passing day.

Keith rubs his temples in annoyance. The tension he feels along his neck and shoulders is enough to make him want to stab the computer in front of him. When he joined ZaHRF, he was under the impression he’d be on the front lines, helping those in need. He hadn't realized realize he’d _still_ need to come back and sit behind a desk and fill out reports for everything they’ve done during those times. It's the part of his job he dislikes the most, but complaining about it to Kolivan only ensured that Keith would get _more_ paperwork to deal with.

“You seem tired.” Someone says. Keith glances over his shoulder with an irritated scowl, but Acxa doesn’t seem fazed with his foul mood. She rolls her eyes nonchalantly and presses a hand against her hip. “Don’t give me that. You weren’t working for a solid ten minutes.”

“Sure didn’t feel that way,” Keith grumbled. “Shouldn’t _you_ be busy with those reports Kolivan wanted?”

“Actually, I was on my way to give it to him, but there was something I needed to do first.” Acxa digs into her pockets and hands Keith his cell phone. He eyes the phone in surprise. He pats his own body for a moment then reaches for the contraption.

“You left it in the lunchroom,” Acxa explains. “You might want to talk to Lance. He left you a ton of messages.”

Dread pools into the pit of Keith’s stomach. “Thanks, Acxa,” He says with a smile. “I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise. I don’t really like keeping a phone on me but Lance and Shiro would get on my case if I don’t.” And it wouldn’t have been the first time either, he muses, thinking back to previous years. Pushing aside the dread he feels, Keith unlocks his phone and immediately searches for his messages with Lance.

It’s exactly what he expects. Teeth sink into his bottom lip as he eyes the time in the corner of the screen. It’s been a few hours, not too many, but enough for Lance to react impulsively.

“Something wrong in paradise?” Acxa asks. The look of concern in her eyes is genuine and Keith can’t help but wonder if the worry he feels shows on his face.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” He says instead. “Thanks again, Acxa.”

She heeds his dismissal casually, leaving him alone at his desk while she wanders off to the other side of the office. Any other day, Keith wouldn’t have been so brash about her questions, but this? This is going to be a problem. Keith can still remember the last time he made the mistake of leaving Lance on read. It's one of the few things he learned very early on in their relationship, and it's something Keith has tried not to repeat since then. The fallout of that event still haunts him, not only because it's an incident he would consider one of the most embarrassing moments in his life, but because Lance’s behavior during and after was… troubling. Concerning.

Frightening, if he was being honest with himself.

Lance’s depressive episodes were hard to catch. Had Keith not known his fiancé so well, he would believe Lance was one of those people who _never_ suffered from depression, but Keith _does_ know him well. He’s seen the worst of Lance’s moods, and he's had the unfortunate experience of being the epicenter of them. Lance has been so good for so long... the anxiety that pools into the pit of Keith’s stomach makes Keith wonder if another episode was forthcoming 

He fiddles the phone between his fingers, a part of him delaying the inevitable. He swallows his nerves, dials Lance’s number and waits. It’d been a long time since Keith has felt this way, and listening to the phone ring on the other line does nothing to assuage his gnawing frustration and fear. An image of Shiro and Adam pops into his mind, and the longer he waits, the more each shrill ring of Lance’s phone echoes forebodingly within his ears. He taps his fingers against his desk as he waits, feeling beads of sweat form on his brow.

There isn’t much Shiro and Adam can do in moments like this, but their presence provides Keith with a level of reassurance he’s not sure he can get elsewhere. Lance’s episodes are hard to deal with, and it’s something Keith’s kept between them for as long as they’ve been dating. Keith knows he can rely on the others—Hunk and Pidge are their best friends after all—and who else would be better suited to help him talk his fiance out of a depressive episode than Lance’s very own family? It’s still not something Keith wants to bring up, let alone drag them into. As Keith’s eyes trail across the office space toward Acxa’s desk, who busies herself with a pile of paperwork, his resolve strengthens.

Yes, Veronica has too much on her plate already. Keith didn’t want to burden his future sister-in-law so soon.

Lance’s phone goes into voicemail. He grits his teeth, blunt nails scratching futilely against the mahogany surface of his desk. This isn’t good. This is definitely, most certainly, not _good_. Lance isn’t picking up his phone, which can only mean one thing.

Just when Lance’s voice mail message finally beeps, and Keith is on the verge of speaking, a pair of brown arms slink their way around Keith’s shoulders. He’s far too familiar with Lance’s scent, and knows who it is before Lance’s warm, hearty chuckle reverberates in his ear.

“Hey there, Samurai,” his fiancé purrs. Despite Keith’s earlier anxiety, the low, breathy way Lance purrs his nickname sends a warm shiver down Keith’s spine. The younger man nuzzles his nose into the crook of Keith’s neck, trailing feather soft butterfly kisses in his wake. “I found you.”

“Lance,” Keith sighs. He hopes it doesn’t come across as too frustrated—he’s happy to see Lance, he truly is, but only when the circumstances are more positive. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, that is,” he adds on quickly.

Lance doesn’t pull away from Keith’s neck. His hands roam down the front of Keith’s chest and it takes far too much willpower to keep those dangerous hands from going lower.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Lance grumbles, once Keith keeps his roaming hands still. “I was worried.”

“I left my phone in the break room,” Keith sighs. He finally peels himself away from Lance’s enticing warmth and faces the Cuban male. There are stress lines already forming just underneath Lance’s eyes and the disheveled state of his clothes gives Keith a sense of dread.

_Please don’t let this be a relapse._ His mind unhelpfully pleads, but it only worsens his dread.

“Did you run all the way here?”

“No, I took a bus.” Lance smiles, but it's strained and almost uncomfortable to stare at. “If you left your phone in the break room, does that mean you already had lunch? Because if you didn’t, we should eat together! We haven’t done that in a while. Also—” He starts to ramble, his words jumbled and almost breathless. Keith hopes the grimace he feels on his face isn’t obvious, but the way Lance continues to speak, wide blue eyes darting across the busy office, makes him think that even if he was grimacing, Lance isn’t going to notice.

The spiral is starting and Keith isn’t prepared.

He shoots out of his chair and slips his fingers into Lance’s sweaty palms. The physical contact is enough to stop Lance’s rambling, and the sudden absence of his voice is jarring in Keith’s ears. He gives his fiancé a warm, reassuring smile, but the wheels in his brain are turning. Keith tries to think back to every trick he’s ever done to keep Lance from falling deep into the hole of paranoid delusions and dark thoughts, but in his state of unease, nothing comes to mind.

“What do you want to eat?” He asks, using his free hand to slip his smartphone into his pocket. “I already had lunch but, we can get some ice cream?”

“Aren’t you busy?”

He is, but being honest when Lance is on the cusp of a bad episode will only make things worse. So, Keith does what he thinks is best. He squeezes Lance’s hand and presses a soft kiss against his knuckles.

“It’s not important.”

Something dark passes over Lance’s face, but it’s gone in a flash. Keith tries to pretend he doesn't notice and allows himself to enjoy Lance’s childlike excitement for ice cream. Lance is the one to lead the way out of the office, having been here countless times before.

* * *

 

The ice cream tastes bitter on Lance’s tongue, which is a shame because it’s truly a delectable treat, but Keith’s words echo in Lance’s ears incessantly.

_“Aren’t you busy?”_

_“It’s not important.”_

_Keith is busy. He’ll get back to you later. – Acxa._

He clutches the cone too tightly in his fist and winces when the fragile confection crumbles in his hands. Keith’s eyes fall on him as Lance removes the crumbled pieces of cone from his palm. Luckily, he’s almost finished with the frozen treat and starts to nibble on its cracked and broken body to keep the ice cream from seeping through.

They eat mostly in silence, the only sounds come from the soft crunching of the cone. They’re huddled close together in the breakroom. Lance is practically in Keith’s lap, his legs splayed across the older boy’s legs and his head resting comfortably against Keith’s shoulders. It's, perhaps, not the most practical position to eat ice cream, but Keith hadn't protested the last time they’d done it and it keeps Lance from having to fill the silence with senseless ramblings.

There are too many things Lance wants to ask him—all of them revolving around why Acxa had Keith’s phone. If his work wasn’t important, why didn’t he respond the first time? Why did Acxa have the phone in the first place? What did they do when Lance’s back was turned? Did Acxa join Keith on his long trips away from home? Why didn’t—

Keith’s hand squeezes the base of Lance’s thigh, snapping him out of his wild thoughts. “You’re trembling,” Keith murmurs, and it's only then that Lance realizes that Keith is right; his whole body is shaking. Lance can’t tell if it’s from the cold or something else. “Are you cold from the ice cream already?”

“No,” Lance pouts. The easy smirk Keith gives him makes Lance wish they’re back in the comfort of their home and not in the breakroom of shared office space. “Don’t make fun of me. I have poor circulation.”

“Yeah, sure, Lance,” His fiancé grins. “How’s the ice cream?”

“Delicious. You should’ve gotten one.” Lance pops the last fragment of icecream cone into his mouth and chews.

Keith chuckles lightly. It doesn’t sound nearly as genuine as the ones he’s used to and it does nothing to assuage the paranoia crippling Lance’s thoughts. “I told you, I already had lunch.”

“It’s because you’re lactose intolerant,” Lance teases, licking his sticky fingers. “Shoulda brought Lactaid pills.”

“Well, I didn’t know we’d be eating ice cream today.” Keith muses.

“I didn’t know I was coming here today.”

The silence that falls between them is uncomfortable, though Lance isn’t sure _why_. The way Keith’s laid back smile turns into a troubled press of his lips makes Lance’s anxiety spike. And when the silence stretches for far too long, Lance opens his mouth to break the silence—but he’s immediately interrupted by Acxa, who stumbles into the cafeteria with fine eyebrows disappearing into her hairline.

She stops in her tracks, her blue eyes darting between the two of them, their positioning and to the rest of the empty break room. Keith pushes Lance’s legs away from his thighs as he clears his throat; an embarrassed blush dusts his cheeks.

“Sorry. Did I interrupt something?”

“Noth-nothing. Just—we were having a snack,” Keith coughs. “What are you doing back here?”

Lance tunes out the rest of the conversation, his attention hyper-fixated on every move Keith makes. The voice of paranoia rings in his ears. Why is Keith blushing? Why did he push off Lance’s legs? Is he embarrassed? Is it wrong for them to cuddle at work? Does Keith not want Acxa to see them cuddling? They’re getting married—is Acxa jealous? Is _Keith_ worried that she’s jealous? But why would he be worried?

Too many questions and not enough answers; the longer Lance watches him, the more anxious he becomes. He snaps out of his thoughts the moment Keith’s eyes are on him and it takes Lance an uncomfortably long time to realize they’re both staring at him. The silence is awkward, and when his eyes dart between the two of them, their expressions expectant, he realizes he’s missed something important.

“Sorry, what?” he blurts, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Acxa’s soft chuckle and Keith’s playful eye roll should assuage the insecurities nipping loudly in his mind, but it doesn’t. Instead, it fills him with loneliness, like he’s an outsider looking in. Like he isn’t important enough to be included.

He takes in a sharp breath and exhales it slowly.

“I asked how the wedding planning was going,” Acxa smiles. It's soft and warm, but to Lance, it feels condescending and secretive. “Veronica tells me you’ve been kinda quiet about it. She’s still bitter that you hired a wedding planner instead of letting her do most of the work.”

Lance snorts, grasping onto some semblance of familiarity. Veronica was a safe topic. His sister always was. “It’s coming along nicely! We finally have a venue.”

“Yeah, _finally_ ,” Keith muses affectionately. “We would’ve had one months ago if you didn’t keep changing your mind.” Keith perches his chin into his palm and uses his free hand to interlace their fingers on Lance’s lap. The contact silences his mounting paranoia, but the way Acxa watches them makes Lance’s hackles rise. He grips onto Keith’s hand tightly.

_It’s fine_. _It’s fine._

_It’s. Fine._


	4. Chapter 4

Leaving Keith alone at work is harder than Lance expects it to be. By the time he’s back in the comfort of their home, he’s already forming trails around the island in their kitchen. Keith still has four more hours left into his shift and while Lance wants nothing more than to drag his fiancé back home and into the bedroom, he knows he can’t, lest he deal with the repercussions. While he paces, Hunk watches him like a hawk. He’s only been in the house for less than ten minutes and Lance already feels like he’s being scrutinized with the way Hunk’s dark eyes trail him.

They remain silent for another five minutes before Hunk finally heaves a heavy sigh and pulls out the collection of cake samples he’s brought over for the afternoon.

“Hey buddy, I know you get kinda _weird_ when Keith doesn’t answer you, but I think you’re letting it get to you just a bit too much,” Hunk says delicately as he lays out small samples of cake onto the island countertop. “How about we try to focus on something a little more positive?”

Irritation seeps into Lance’s veins, but he complies with his best friend’s wishes. He joins Hunk at the island and allows himself to marvel at the variety of small cake samples.

“Wow Hunk, you really outdid yourself.”

Hunk beams smugly. “Yeah, well, anything for my best friend’s wedding day! Also, I couldn’t really decide what flavors to go with or what theme since you keep changing your mind so I brought everything we have in the bakery.”

Lance listens with rapt attention as Hunk goes into a spiel about the flavors, textures, and types of cakes. Its an impressive list of options, and with every explanation Hunk makes, he samples a bite. Each pastry is delicious in its own way. Some are unique in terms of flavor, others in texture. The more Lance samples, the harder it is for him to decide on the _best_ cake flavor for his wedding day. He slides the last sample of cake onto his tongue and mulls it over, absorbing the flavor of the cream, the fluffiness of the cake itself and the sweetness of the aftertaste once he swallows.

Hunk watches him again, this time, it’s not nearly as nerve-wracking or judgmental as the first time. He leans into Lance closely, dark eyes wide with excitement.

“So? Whaddya think?” He asks, practically vibrating where he stands. “Any of them call to you? Does it scream ‘klance’s wedding day cake’?”

Lance nearly chokes on his own saliva. “ _Klance_?” He coughs.

Hunk shrugs. “It’s your celebrity name with Keith.”

“We’re not celebrities, Hunk.”

“Fine. It’s your _pairing_ name.” Hunk says with a playful eye roll. “But serious question, which one do you like?”

“I’m torn between options 2, 13 and 20.” Hunk whips out a notepad and jots down the numbers. Lance watches him for a moment. “You’re not gonna write that on our wedding cake are you?”

“Write what?”

“Klance.”

Hunk snorts a laugh. “Nah, buddy. That’s just what the gang calls you guys. It’s easier that way. You and Keith are attached at the hip anyway.” Hunk grabs the last three remaining samples and writes down their flavors accordingly. He turns his attention back to Lance again, who hasn’t moved from the spot. “Okay, so which of the three do you want for the wedding cake?”

“It’s a tiered cake, Hunk. Why not all three?”

A flash of hesitation crosses his eyes. Lance tilts his head slightly, curious, but when Hunk doesn’t make a comment, it makes the unease Lance feels even more prominent.

“What?” Lance asks. Hunk’s pen freezes, but the older Samoan doesn’t meet Lance’s gaze. Instead, he keeps his attention focused on the notepad. Lance waits until he’s done writing to settle him with a more pressing glare. “What is it? What’s wrong with a tiered cake?”

Hunk shakes his head slowly. “Nothing. Just…” He trails off, dark eyes avoiding Lance’s gaze. The way he does so makes Lance’s hackles rise.

“No, no, go on Hunk. Clearly, there’s something you want to say.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Hunk grumbles.

Lance stares at him incredulously. “Apparently it _is._ Now tell me.” He snaps with more bite than he means, but the damage is done. Hunk tenses, his bushy brows furrowing in irritation.

“Look, when we talked about the wedding cake last time, you said you wanted something simple. You didn’t mention anything about a three flavored tiered cake, Lance. If that’s what you want then that’s fine, I can do that for you, but I’m just worried that—”

“—that what? That I’ll change my mind? Make you scrap the whole thing again?”

Hunk’s thick fingers tighten around his pen in frustration. “Yeah, basically,” He says nonchalantly. He takes another breath, as though attempting to calm himself down before settling Lance with a worried stare. “Listen, buddy, I know you’ve been pretty stressed lately. I know you’re struggling with… well, I don’t really know what you’re struggling with because you don’t really talk to me anymore, but I can _tell_ there’s something eating away at you, and I just… I’m worried about you, Lance. We _all_ are.”

“I’m _fine_ , Hunk.” Lance snaps. There isn’t any bite to his words, only a level of exhaustion he hasn’t felt in the longest of time. He pinches the bridge of his nose tightly and exhales noisily. “It’s just a cake.” He finishes weakly, and he can tell with the strained way Hunk stares at him that it isn’t the answer Hunk is expecting.

“Right,” Hunk frowns in disappointment. “It’s just a cake.”

The silence that stretches between them is uncomfortable, but it doesn’t last for long. Lance’s ears perk up at the sound of the front door opening. He shoots past Hunk and happily tosses himself into Keith’s embrace in the foyer. Keith barely manages to catch him, and the force of their impact has them stumbling into the front door, but Keith holds steady. Lance buries his nose into the crook of Keith’s neck, inhaling the scent he’s grown dependent on. The hurricane of emotions swirling within him settles down, and the paranoia Lance has been fighting against finally seems to dissipate the moment Keith is within his reach.

He misses the confused expression that flashes across Keith’s face and he misses the shared look of concern that passes between Keith and Hunk.

“I’m home,” Keith chuckles, squeezing Lance tightly. “Did you guys settle on a cake?” He’s staring at Hunk when he asks, but Lance detangles himself from Keith’s embrace and flashes him a toothy smile. It’s a stark contrast to the reluctant look on Hunk’s face.

“Yeah! I’m thinking we’ll do a five-tiered cake—”

“That’s not what you said,” Hunk interjects with a frown. “You said only three—”

“I _know_ what I said,” Lance scowls, crossing his arms. “But I changed my mind. We’re doing five.”

“We’re not doing five.”

Lance whirls around to Hunk, mouth flying open to protest, but whatever words he wants to say don’t get a chance to formulate. Keith slides in between them like a barrier and effortlessly pulls Lance away from an irritable looking Hunk. He’s muttering soothing words into Lance’s ears, but they don’t register in his mind. Instead, Lance glares at Hunk and watches as the older male turns on his heel and storms back into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?!” Lance asks. He tries to get past Keith but his fiancé’s grip is tight.

“Lance, come on—”

“We’re not done here!”

“No, I’m pretty sure we are,” Hunk says defiantly. He stores away the remaining samples and secures the bag. He turns back to Lance and Keith, the former still watching him carefully. “Listen, buddy, we’re best friends and I love you like a brother, but I’m really worried about you. I’m worried about _both_ of you.” He gives Keith a meaningful look that makes the fine hairs on the back of Lance’s neck rise.

An irrational bout of jealousy suddenly overwhelms him then; a series of images flash unprompted before his eyes. Lance feels like he’s about to do something he’ll regret and what’s worse is that he feels like he won’t stop himself. He wants to jump Hunk; wants to keep him away from Keith, but it doesn’t make sense and the longer Lance tries to rationalize against his paranoid thoughts, the more intense the urge becomes. His muscles are already tensing. They grow tight and uncomfortable beneath his skin. His fingers twitch, it’s a subtle movement, but he feels like his veins are on fire.

Hunk is still talking, but the words don’t reach Lance’s ears. He’s still staring at Keith—no, wait, that’s wrong—he’s staring at Lance now, and there’s a layer of emotion in Hunk’s dark eyes that Lance can’t read. Though he’s sure he could once, a long time ago.

Suddenly, Hunk is out the door before Lance can get a word in. He glances over his shoulder with that same unreadable expression in his eyes, before he makes for his parked car. Keith closes the door before Hunk is gone and settles Lance with a frown.

“Lance,” He starts. “What—”

Lance’s lips are on his with such speed, the back of Keith’s head knocks into the doorframe with a loud _thunk_. Lance’s hands desperately roam their way up Keith’s body, but the older male grips them delicately around the wrists and pulls them away. Keith forces enough space between them to regain his breath, but he rests his forehead against Lance’s own.

“What are you doing?” He asks breathlessly. “This is serious, Lance.”

“And I seriously want you,” Lance murmurs. The wave of loneliness and terror that scratches beneath his ribcage is intensifying by the second. Lance tries to wiggle his hands away from Keith’s hold, but it’s a fruitless endeavor. “Keith, _please_!”

Whatever hesitation Keith has is gone and his lips crash into Lance’s again.

* * *

Guilt gnaws persistently in the back of Keith’s mind. Lance sleeps soundly behind him, hair tousled and tanned skin still glistening with sweat. The love bites marring his flesh stand out to Keith. It was an indulgence they both enjoyed immensely, but the troubled thoughts circling around and around in Keith’s mind make it seem more like a burden than a sign of possession.

Keith plays around with his phone blankly as he scans Lance’s bare frame. They’re not usually this active when it comes to sex. Lance’s sex drive is notorious, yes, and Keith usually isn’t any better when it came to his fiancé, but the last few days have been something more of a rare commodity. Lance’s reaction to Romelle earlier in the week only makes the anxiety Keith feels worse. The phone spins around and around in his palm, the weight of it is a comfort in his hands, but it does nothing to silence his worries. Acxa’s text message springs into mind again. Keith bites his bottom lip.

“Shit,” He murmurs and runs a sweaty, shaky hand through his messy bangs. With one last glance toward Lance’s peacefully sleeping face, Keith carefully slips out of bed and heads for the stairs.

Once he’s alone in the kitchen, he calls for help.

Shiro’s voice on the other line fills Keith with a sense of relief. He wasn’t aware of how tense he was until that very moment and the sigh he releases then makes Shiro laugh.

“I take it Lance is driving you crazy?” Shiro muses. Keith can hear Adam’s voice on the line. He sounds distant, but the moment Shiro speaks, his husband falls silent.

“Not in the way you think,” Keith confesses. “I’m not bothering you two am I?”

“No, we just finished dinner.”

“What’s on your mind?” It takes Keith a moment to realize its Adam who asks and it takes another second to realize he’s on speakerphone now.

“It’s Lance,” he murmurs and already he wants to kick himself for stating the obvious. He doesn’t understand why he’s hesitating, Shiro and Adam are one of the few people outside of his Mom and Lance that Keith can really talk to, but a part of him resists. He hears the older men chuckle through the phone. An embarrassed blush crawls along his cheekbones. “I mean, you guys already knew that but, um… You know what I mean.” He stammers. It only makes them laugh harder.

“We know,” Shiro soothes. He sounds closer to the phone, but not quite as close like before. “You can tell us anything, Keith. You know that, right?”

“I know…” And he does know. He truly—absolutely—understands that Shiro and Adam are one of the most trusting and caring people he’s ever met. But still, he hesitates. He worries. He fidgets with the hemming of his shirt, his mind wandering back to a few days earlier when Lance would fidget with his clothes during times of discomfort. He should’ve paid more attention then. Lance may not have been spiraling then, but he certainly wasn’t quite _okay_.

“What about Lance?” Adam presses gently. “Shiro tells me he’s been stressed out lately. Is he still fighting with his writer’s block?”

The writer’s block was only just the beginning, Keith realizes. The longer he thinks about it, the more signs he’s missed and the stronger the guilt becomes. A wave of self-loathing washes over him then, but Keith shakes the negative thoughts away and sighs. He leans his back against the kitchen sink and stares aimlessly across the kitchen into the open living room.

“I’m going to be honest with you guys, but I think I have to start from the beginning…”

He’s grateful for their rapt attention as he recounts his experience from start to finish. By the time he’s done, Keith feels worn down, like he just survived running a marathon he wasn’t prepared for. Adam and Shiro are silent on the other line—had been for a while, but Keith isn’t worried. He knows they’re processing the story; knows they’re already putting the pieces of Lance’s behavior together in their minds. Of all the years the couple has known Lance, Keith is sure certain moments are starting to make more sense to them.

When seconds pass into minutes, the silence breaks with a soft, heavy sigh. He’s not sure which of the two did it, but there’s an exchange of silent communication Keith can practically _sense_ between them. The thought makes him smile. To be so close to someone, to know their every move like the back of your hand—a part of Keith wonders if it feels like that for Lance. Would they ever reach that level of intimacy? Are they even capable of it? Their rocky start makes him inclined to believe otherwise, but their progress gives him hope.

There’s something wrong with Lance, he realizes something that, perhaps, Lance may not even be aware of himself. He’s seen all sides of the younger boy throughout the years, but one thing is always the same; always persistent, like a shadow trailing behind them. Lance has _triggers_ , and yesterday, Keith stepped on one.

“Did you talk to him about this?” Shiro’s voice startles Keith out of his train of thought. He fumbles with the phone for a moment, embarrassed with how strong he jumped, but he clears his throat in a desperate attempt to regain composure and shakes his head. “No. I, uh, I tried to earlier after Hunk left, but he kinda just… threw himself on me and we… you know.”

One of them groans and Keith isn’t sure if it was Shiro or Adam or both. Regardless, the sound makes him more embarrassed and he runs shaky fingers through his messy hair.

“I tried to resist, okay? It’s hard.”

“Keith,” Both men sigh in exasperation. “Seriously?”

“I didn’t call you two to have you call me out on this, alright?” He grumbles. “I need advice.”

“ _Talk_ to him,” Adam presses before Shiro can speak. “Be _honest_ with him. Stop avoiding the subject and if he tries to seduce you again, _stop_ him. It’s clear that what’s happening with him is of serious concern and if things get worse, don’t hesitate to _call_ us.”

“In the meanwhile,” Shiro says, effortlessly cutting into the conversation. “Keep us updated. It’s possible the stress of the wedding and his publishing deadlines are becoming too much for him to shoulder alone. I know it was tough for us at the time too, but you two are strong. Have faith.”

“ _Talk to him!”_ Adam emphasizes from somewhere far away, it makes Keith laugh.

“Thank you, Shiro, Adam. I really appreciate it.”

* * *

He peels off a thin layer of skin before he realizes what he’s doing. It doesn’t hurt until the layer goes in too deep. The bite of pain that stings the corner of his lip is uncomfortable, and blood pools around the newly formed cut, but Lance’s attention is drawn to the laptop screen. He licks the crimson liquid absentmindedly, his fingers dancing across the keyboard as loud clatters fill the silent room. He’s finally in the zone again. The scene is unfolding rapidly before his eyes. He won’t let any distractions get to him, not until the images stop.

He doesn’t notice Keith’s appearance until the bed dips with his fiance’s weight, and even then, Lance does a pretty good job with keeping his brain on track until finally, _finally_ , ten pages later, the scene comes to a close. He licks the stream of blood that’s slowly oozing down the side of his mouth and glances in Keith’s direction. The expression Keith gives him is… hard to read. Blue-violet eyes are bearing into him and while Lance feels like he should be concerned, instead, a flash of heat pools into the pit of his stomach.

He’s still bare and somewhat sticky from earlier—his lower half still quite prepared for another round; Lance tilts his head slightly and smiles coyly at Keith.

“Hey handsome, I didn’t see you there,” He purrs. Keith rolls his eyes. It makes Lance laugh. “What? I’m not that bad at flirting, am I?”

“You’re terrible, but that’s not why I was rolling my eyes. We need to talk.”

Lance’s arousal intensifies despite the mounting panic. He turns back to his laptop, saves his latest creation and tries his best to stay focused. It’s… surprisingly difficult. Even when Keith begins, Lance has a hard time focusing on his words. He struggles between admiring the way Keith sounds and cross-referencing the tone of his voice to two hours before when his fiance was heavily grunting and growling in his ears. He tries to respond when he’s meant to, but the longer Keith talks, the more scattered Lance’s thoughts become.

Romelle’s face pops into mind again, followed by Acxa and Allura. Then Shay and Lotor and Shiro—Veronica. Suddenly, the voices are back and pain seeps into his mind.

“ _Lance!_ ”

Lance snaps back into reality. He stares, wide-eyed, toward Keith, who watches him with anxiety marring his features.

“What are you _doing_?” He nearly squeaks, and Lance would’ve found it funny had he not been so confused. It’s then he realizes their positioning. Keith is closer toward him, his hands wrapped around Lance’s wrists. The hold is tight and he can feel the slight tremble in their contact. He’s not sure who is shaking—him or Keith—but the pain Lance feels on his face makes him realize exactly _why_ Keith is holding him so hard.

“Was I peeling my lips again?”

“You were… scratching at your face,” Keith swallows. “Lance… babe… please talk to me. What’s going on in your head?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re _not_ fine!” Keith snaps and it’s the first time in a long time Lance sees the anger in Keith’s eyes. “This isn’t the first time you’re acting this way and I’m—” He stops and stares then releases a sigh. He loosens his grip on Lance’s wrists but stills holds on, as though afraid of what would happen if he didn’t. “The thing with Hunk and Romelle, visiting me at work because Acxa replied for me; the sex—you keep doing this. Maybe not all the time, but I’m starting to notice maybe… Lance… I think we should take you to the doctor.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, they both know it, but Keith remains firm while Lance shirks away, or tries to anyway. He looks away from Keith, a pout forming on his bruised, bloody lips, but he can still feel Keith’s eyes boring into him.

“Lance—”

“I’ll think about it,” He cuts in.

He can see Keith’s scowl from his peripheral. “Will you _actually_ think about it or are you just going to ignore it?”

“I’ll _think_ about it,” He reiterates, but it doesn’t assuage Keith’s irritation.

Keith releases his grip on Lance’s wrists in order to run a hand through his hair. It’s already a disaster from their earlier ministrations, but it gets worse when those dexterous, calloused fingers course through his dark locks. Lance hyper-focuses on the movement and replays far too many scenarios in his mind on what those fingers can do. The exasperated expression on Keith’s face forms into a scowl then.

“ _Lance_ ,” he hisses sternly. “Stop it. I _know_ what you’re thinking.” Keith reaches for him, cradles Lance’s face in his hands. Despite the anger in his eyes, his touch is soft and comforting. Lance can’t help but lean into it. It silences the voices and the images swirling around in his mind; it brings forth a peaceful silence, and he melts into their sudden embrace.

Keith holds him close, his grip tight. “Please, trust me on this,” He murmurs into Lance’s hair. “I’m worried about you. I’m scared you’re going to spiral out of control again.”

_Again._

_Again?_

“I’m fine,” Lance sighs, relishing in Keith’s scent. “As long as you’re with me, I’m fine.”

Keith pulls away and Lance is reluctant to let him go. An irrational sense of terror fills him as they part. Lance clings onto Keith’s arms, and the confusion his fiancé gives him makes Lance feel embarrassed. Yet, he holds on. Keith stares between their hands and the expression on Lance’s face. Lance can practically see the gears in his head moving.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m calling Allura.”

Fear takes a hold of him then and Lance lurches toward Keith. “I’m fine!” He insists, sweaty hands cradling Keith’s cheeks. “I’m fine. Just… I’m fine. Can we….?” He tries to crawl into Keith’s lap, tries to steal his fiancé’s lips in the way he’s used to doing, but Keith shoves him away none too gently and Lance falls clumsily onto their bed sheets.

“Stop it!” Keith cries, and the desperation Lance hears in his voice hurts more than anything else in the world. “Lance, _look at yourself!_ Look at what you’re _doing_! I love you, but I’m not going to watch you keeping spiraling like this!” He’s off the bed before Lance knows it and is halfway across the room, gathering his boots and keys.

Lance scrambles to stop him but gets tangled around the laptop battery cord and the blankets. Keith is out of the room by the time he finally frees himself and when he screeches Keith’s name from the top of the stairs, Keith is already gone.

* * *

Keith chokes on his breath as he pulls out of the driveway and rides off into the night. His knuckles grow white with how tight he grips the steering wheel. The desperation on Lance’s face is stuck in his mind’s eye. No matter how many times he tries to blink the image away, it remains as a haunting reminder of what he’s just done. Leaving Lance alone in the middle of a spiral is the worst thing he could have done. Every nerve in Keith’s body screams at him to turn back around, scoop Lance up in his arms and take him back to the safety of their bed, wrapped warmly and tightly in each other’s embrace. But it’s a luxury Keith can no longer afford to give, not when it’s become apparent that there’s something terribly wrong with Lance.

He’s spent most of their relationship finding excuses for Lance’s spirals, and the longer he thinks about how long he’s delayed it, the angrier he becomes with himself. Keith slams a fist against the steering wheel. Frustration and heartache surge through his veins. He wants nothing more than to turn the damn car around and return to Lance’s side, but he keeps his foot on the gas and floors it down the street in the direction of the only people he knows who can help.

Veronica’s apartment isn’t far away. Lance visits his sister often enough that Keith has her address memorized. When he pulls into the guest parking space and peers upward toward the window he knows is hers, a weight of trepidation drops in his gut. His phone vibrates uncontrollably in his pocket; he doesn’t need to check the lock screen to know its Lance. It pains him to ignore his phone calls, but Keith knows himself; knows his own weakness. If he picks up that phone and hears how wrecked his fiance is on the other line, he knows he’ll be risking a speeding ticket just to get back to him. So, he tries his best to ignore the vibrations on his thigh, shuts off his car and slips out into the breezy, summer night.

He finds Veronica’s name easily and quickly presses the buzzer. His phone finally stops buzzing as he waits. The temptation to check on how many missed calls from Lance is surprisingly strong, and the longer he waits for Veronica to open the door, the more tempted he becomes. Just when he’s about to crack, the door finally buzzes and Keith slips into the lobby. An elevator ride later, he’s just about to knock on Veronica’s door when it flies open.

It’s not Veronica he sees, but Acxa. It shouldn’t surprise him in the least bit, but it does. The way her dark brows disappear into her hairline tells him that she’s just as surprised to see him as he is to see her. From behind her, Rachel, Lance’s older fraternal twin sister pokes her head from around the corner and visibly lights up the moment their eyes meet.

“Keith!” She waves from down the hall. “We didn’t know you were coming!”

Keith tries his best to return Rachel’s jubilant smile, but it falls short. “Yeah, I didn’t expect to come here so late,” He chuckles humorlessly and steps into the apartment.

Veronica gives him a warm smile in greeting the moment he steps into the living room, but it's short-lived. She’s always been the more perceptive one in Lance’s family, so it doesn’t surprise Keith in the least when she sits up straighter in the couch and urges him to join her. Rachel does the same and sits on the armrest just beside Veronica while Acxa disappears into the kitchen. She returns not too long after with a tray of empty cups and a pitcher in hand. Keith would’ve found it amusing how well Acxa knows her way around Veronica’s place if it hadn’t reminded him of the time when he and Lance helped Veronica move in. Acxa had been there, and by that time, they hadn’t been aware of their relationship until Veronica casually dropped the news during their lunch break. Things were… simpler then.

“What happened?” Veronica presses before Acxa is even finished pouring a cup of water for Keith. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, Keith, it’s just… you don’t usually drop by unexpectedly like this.”

“If Lance is driving you crazy again, you can tell us,” Rachel teases with a smile. “We already know how annoying he can get sometimes.”

“I’m worried about him,” He says, and he hates how quickly Lance’s sisters stiffen. Rachel’s easy smile immediately turns into a worried frown. Veronica subconsciously leans in closer, her expression stern.

Without being prompted, Keith dives into the story again. It’s more abridged than the version he gave to Shiro, and Adam and the way the words tumble out of his mouth makes him realize how nervous he is. His phone weighs heavily in his pocket; he can only imagine the number of missed calls waiting for him on the screen. By the time he’s done speaking, his fingers are trembling. Guilt eats away at his consciousness, but it's drowned out by an overwhelming sense of self-loathing.

“I should’ve brought this up sooner,” he grumbles, tearing his gaze away from all three women. “I just thought… I didn’t think there was anything wrong. He’s _always_ been like this.”

“Not so much when we were kids,” Veronica sighs. She finally leans back into the cushions and rubs her temples. “We noticed he’s been… a little different since high school, but…”

“We didn’t think much about it,” Rachel finishes, and Keith can read in her tone a sense of regret he’s not sure is right. Staring up at the girls, Keith isn’t surprised to find Acxa by Veronica’s side. Neither of them say anything, but the softness in their shared gaze is more than enough for him to understand. He looks away again and pulls out his phone. The number of calls he’s missed from Lance is startlingly high, and just as he expects, the urge to call him back, to apologize and promise he’ll never leave him alone again, is overwhelming.

Before either of them can break the sullen silence, Hunk’s name pops onto the screen. With a frown, Keith unlocks the phone and presses it to his ear.

“Hunk? What’s—?” Keith’s voice dies in his throat. A series of noises filter through the line, but Keith can distinctly hear the sound of Hunk’s heavy breathing. He sounds panicked. The words Keith catches don’t make any sense to his ears, and by the time Hunk finally acknowledges that the phone isn’t ringing anymore, he only has enough breath to mutter a few words before the call drops.

_Hospital. Now._


	5. Chapter 5

Lance nearly kills himself running down the stairs. The panic of losing sight of Keith, and faintly hearing the engine of his car start, makes Lance’s heart jump into his throat. His feet feel like jello, and as he staggers and scrambles down the stairs, his ankles twisting and turning in all sorts of painful, unnatural ways, he finally misses the second to last step and crashes harshly against the wooden floor. The impact of his landing hurts; he slams his chin on the floor, scrapes the heels of his palms and somehow manages to knock his knees onto something hard, but none of the pain registers as he rushes to his feet and bursts out the door.

It’s too late. Keith is gone. Not even the faint smoke of the exhaust or the car’s lights trail in the air. The street his dark and empty; the night is silent and the crickets begin their mating call.

The air is somewhat cooler than it usually is in the daytime, and Lance doesn’t notice, in his panic to stop Keith from abandoning him, that he'd forgotten to get dressed. It takes far too much energy to keep himself from bolting down the street and screaming his fiancé’s name, but Lance manages to restrain his impulses.

He forces himself back into the house, slams the door behind him and leans back into the cold surface. He slides onto the ground, his chest heaving. The tears come before he notices. They roll down his pale cheeks and mix with the blood pooling around his chin. One drop lands on the floor then another and another—Lance’s whole body quakes with emotion.

The noise that rips from his throat is loud and painful. Pain explodes inside his chest; a sharp, stabbing nuisance that pulsates in tandem with his rapidly beating heart. The voices in his mind go crazy, but their words are incomprehensible. Keith’s expression stays frozen behind Lance’s eyelids. The more he focuses on it, the more pain he feels.

He feels like his heart is tearing into pieces. The image of Keith turning his back on him and walking out the door makes a harrowing sense of doom flood into Lance’s veins and he screams as the terror overwhelms him. He slams his fists into the ground, over and over again, until they’re bruised and achy.

“Get it together, get it together,” he pleads with himself, his breathing ragged. “Call him. Call him!”

Lance hauls himself back to his feet, and somehow, he’s back in the bedroom, grasping his forgotten cell phone. He selects Keith’s name and waits.

And waits.

_And waits._

“Pick up, pick up, pick up, pickuppickuppickup—“

He waits and waits.

_And waits._

It goes to voicemail. Every. Time.

Lance’s chest heaves.

_He’s abandoning me. He’s abandoning me. Oh god, he’s abandoning me—_

_He went to find Acxa—No! He went to find Romelle—no, no—Shiro—Adam—someone else—AcxaRomelle—_

He tosses the phone against the wall, tries to regain his breath when it _thunks_ loudly then immediately bolts for it when a wave of guilt washes over him. He cradles the phone into his chest, hunches over and screams.

“Calm down, calm down,” He mutters, voice raw.

With his free hand, he sinks his blunt nails into his temple and focuses on the pain. He scratches into his skin until it's dark red and agitated. It’s not enough. The terror he feels is still too intense and the voices won’t stop. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip hard enough to taste copper on his tongue. It’s relieving, but only slightly. It’s still not enough.

“Okay, okay,” he breathes.

He’s in the kitchen now, though he doesn’t remember walking down the steps to get here.

The bumps and bruises, the scrapes along his hands, the pain he feels throughout the rest of his body fail in comparison to the devastation suffocating his chest. He searches the cabinets, desperate for something—he’s not sure what.

Suddenly, he leans into the kitchen island, his cell phone in front of him. Hunk’s name and picture fill the screen and it takes Lance a moment to realize the call is active. Hunk’s voice filters through from the speakers, but it sounds far away. Lance isn’t sure if it’s because of Hunk or him; he can barely hear his best friend. Pain sears across his limbs. It’s strong enough to ground him, strong enough to make him _focus_.

“Lance? Buddy? Are you okay?” Hunk asks and it’s the first thing Lance can finally understand from the other man. “You’re breathing really hard, man. Where are you? Are you home?”

“Hey, Hunk…” Lance cringes at the sound of his voice, broken and strained, he hopes it’s not as bad as it sounds, but the sudden silence from Hunk makes him think otherwise. “Keith walked out on me.” He laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world, but the pain returns to his chest; turns his laughter into sobs.

Hunk’s concern is palpable through the phone. “Okay. _Okay_. Lance, I need you to listen to me very, very carefully okay? You’re having a panic attack right now. I need you to breathe through your nose and out through your mouth, okay? Can you do that for me buddy?”

“We had an argument,” He continues. The tears won’t stop coming. “I think I really fucked up this time, Hunk. He said I needed help but I’m fine and we’re fine, and I’m just… I’m really tired or worrying about what’s going on in his head and-and—” His voice breaks into a hiccup; the intake of breath he takes is harsh.

His hands feel cold and his body shakes. Something warm and moist coats his palms. It's sticky and yet still slippery somehow, and it takes too much strength to keep Lance from falling over. His vision is blurred with tears as he hangs his head over the phone. Tears and blood mix onto the screen. He tries to wipe it away but smears more blood along Hunk’s name.

Hunk is calling to him again, and this time, Lance can hear the panic in his best friend’s voice. He doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t understand how Hunk can still care, when they’d just fought over cake a few hours ago.

“You’re my best friend, Lance,” Hunk says, and it takes Lance a moment to realize he voiced his thoughts out loud. “And you’re really scaring me right now. What blood? Are you bleeding? Lance, I need you to focus, tell me what’s going on! Are you home?”

Is he home? Lance tears his gaze away from the phone screen and glances around the kitchen. His vision is hazy, blurred by tears and a vignette of darkness chasing the corners of his peripheral vision. The movement makes his head spin. He slips and falls. He doesn’t hear Hunk screaming his name.

He tries to sit up, but his legs don’t respond. With enormous effort, Lance raises a hand. They’re soaked in crimson; blood crawls down his outstretched arm like sparkling red pearls.

“Oh,” he sighs. His hand drops. _What did I do_ …? He wonders but finds he’s too tired to care. Keith’s face remains etched in his minds eyes and even as darkness slowly crawls into his consciousness, he’s so happy it’s the last thing he sees, even if it’s the most painful.

* * *

Keith knows what loss feels like, has spent most of his life trying to fight back against that feeling. He used to be willing to that meant push people away and build walls around his heart; if it meant he could exile himself to a lonely existence all in the hopes of keeping himself from hurting that way again. But Lance barreling his way into his life—and his heart—with Shiro and Adam helping him along the way, meant that Keith wasn’t prepared to face _loss_ again. Not like this.

Acxa drives them all to the hospital while Veronica and Rachel worry themselves into sickness. Keith is in the backseat, too disconnected with the world to fully comprehend what’s happening. He’s still too numb to speak, too numb to process what could have possibly gone on for Hunk to call him like that. What could have happened to make them have them all rush off into the hospital like this? He doesn’t want to play out the many scenarios that could’ve happened. He doesn’t want to _replay_ the scenes that _have_ happened before, when Lance first spiraled; when he first learned about Lance's demons.

Keith knew about them, knew what would happen if they were unleashed again, and as Acxa nearly breaks everyone’s necks to get to the hospital with how fast she drives, Keith sinks further and further into his own self-hatred and resentment. This is Keith's fault. He's the one who left Lance.

Abandoned him.

_I should’ve stayed._

Acxa doesn’t even get the chance to park the car when Keith jumps out of the moving vehicle and bursts into the hospital lobby. He doesn’t even ask for directions or check in with the nurse, because the moment his eyes land on Hunk’s pale, panicked expression and the worried, yet soothing face of Shay by his side, he already _knows._

He approaches them with a thousand questions on his lips, and when Hunk finally catches sight of him and jumps to his feet, everything Keith wants to ask vanishes from his mind. His tongue is heavy and his throat constricts. Hunk looks torn between wanting to speak but being unable to do so and when the seconds stretch into minutes, and the silence between them grows thick, it's then Keith can finally _feel_.

Veronica, Rachel, and Acxa finally join him, but none of them say a word. It takes all of Keith’s will power to keep himself from breaking down. He doesn’t want to; can’t be the one to do so, not in a place so full of activity and others are just as anxious for their own loved ones.

He’s not sure how long it takes, but soon, Shiro and Adam show up and so do the others, but Keith doesn’t register their presence. Faintly, he can hear Veronica grilling Hunk for answers, but the only thing he hears is “surgery” and “blood loss” before his ears decide they’ve heard too much. He finds a quiet place away from the others and sits, eyes fixated on the ground. They leave him be and for that, he’s grateful.

He’s not sure how long time passes. He zones out more than once, and he’s grateful for the silent numbness his mind has defaulted to. The overwhelming sense of emotions from earlier feel like they’re on the cusp of returning, but he keeps himself focused on the ground. He doesn’t notice Shiro’s presence until the older man clears his throat and tries to offer Keith a cup of chocolate pudding.

“I’m not hungry,” Keith says, delicately shoving the offered snack aside.

Shiro lets him and chooses to take the snack for himself. They sit in silence for a few moments more, the only sounds Keith hears, aside from the hospital noises, is Shiro using his plastic spoon to swirl the chocolate pudding around.

“Hunk said Lance told him you left him.”

Keith grits his teeth, trying his best to reign in the sob that desperately wants to escape. He crosses his arms, grips them tightly.

“I went to Veronica’s. I needed help,” He forces out slowly. “I told Lance… we needed to get him help. He took it about as well as you’d expect.”

The silence that falls between them is supposed to be comfortable—understanding—but instead, Keith feels like he’s on edge. He refuses to look Shiro’s way; refuses to acknowledge that he was wrong that this whole thing didn’t _need_ to happen if only he stayed. He’s shaking before he knows it and it's not until Shiro rests a hand on his shoulder does Keith finally tear his eyes away from the floor and gaze into the worried eyes of his brother and best friend.

“It’s not your fault.”

Keith finally feels grief overcome him. The sobs that escape his lips are silent yet so full of agony, Keith feels like he can’t breathe. He buries his face into his palms and weeps.

* * *

Lance feels warm and comfortable in a way he thinks he shouldn’t be. The world around him is dark and surprisingly noisy, though the sounds feel distant and incomprehensible. His sense of touch is dulled, and his body tingles in the way they would when he’s in full body relaxation. There’s something pressing into him that’s both so very warm and so very familiar. He nuzzles into it, inhales the familiar scent of… well, he’s not sure what, but it reminds him of Keith. Reminds him of home.

When he finally opens his eyes and blinks away the blurriness, he realizes his field of vision is being blocked not by something, but _someone_. Lance nuzzles deeper into the warm embrace, hears the soft hum of his companion awakening and a part of him laments that he’s woken Keith up. Keith’s fingers card through Lance’s hair. When Lance breathes out a content sigh, Keith follows suit.

“’m so happy to see you,” Lance slurs, resting his cheek against Keith’s chest. “Warm…”

“Lance, do you remember what happened?”

He doesn’t want to and he says as much. Keith’s fingers continue to card through Lance’s hair, and it makes it all the more difficult for him to stay awake. The tranquility he feels is unlike anything he’s ever felt in a long, long time. The nightmare from earlier feels more like a distant, horrific memory that Lance would rather forget. For just one moment, within Keith’s arms, he thinks he can; hopes they both can.

“I thought you abandoned me,” He murmurs. He tries to hold Keith close, but the action hurts his wrists and he realizes then that his arms are bound with gauze. A dull ache throbs beneath the layers. He tries not to think about what they mean.

“I would never abandon you,” Keith replies. He presses a kiss to Lance’s forehead. “But I was terrified you would leave me behind.”

“Mistake,” Lance croaks. “Didn’t realize what happened ‘till it happened.”

They enjoy each other’s presence until Keith finally pulls away. Lance lets him and watches him carefully slide off of the hospital bed with sluggish movements. It’s then Lance notices where they are. They’re the only ones in the room, though he knows by the gifts that surround him that it’s not just Keith in the hospital. His family is somewhere on the other side of the door and Lance isn’t sure if he’s grateful or terrified. Fragmented memories from _before_ flash before his eyes. He’s not sure how long he’s been out, if it was a few hours, yesterday, two days or a week, but thinking about it scares him more than he likes to admit.

Keith looks haggard like he’s exhausted in more ways than one, and it breaks Lance’s heart all over again. He wants nothing more than to reach out toward his fiancé and wrap him up in his arms. And it’s exactly what he tries to do. He extends a hand toward Keith’s direction, but his eyes are drawn to the white bandage wrapped around his wrist. They’re clean, recently changed perhaps, but he knows what they mean, and the way Keith barely glances at them makes Lance realize he’s done something far worse than spiral out of control.

Suddenly, tears spring to his eyes and his body quivers.

“K-Keith?”

Keith is by his side in seconds, trailing thumbs along his cheeks to wipe away the tears. “Shhh, babe, I’m here,” he soothes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The look in Keith’s eyes is raw and honest. Lance hiccups as his tears continue to fall, but he lets himself relax deeper into Keith’s touch. The physical contact is soothing, and as Keith gently wipes away the tears, unaware of his own, Lance, for the first time in a long time, feels grounded. Truly grounded. It takes a few more minutes for the tears to finally stop, but when they do, Lance lays back down on the bed and gives his fiancé a sheepish, yet scared smile.

“Are we still getting married?” Lance asks.

Keith snakes his fingers between Lance's and squeezes them in reassurance. “Yeah, Lance. Of course. I love you too much to let you go.” He raises his fiancé’s hand and presses a kiss to the back of his knuckles.

A choked sob escapes Lance’s lips again and he squeezes Keith’s hand with all the strength he can muster. “Even though I’m broken?” He murmurs. He tries to lean closer into Keith, desperate for more of his touch, but the exhaustion he suddenly feels keeps him in bed.

Keith’s smile is wistful, Lance can read the guilt in his eyes, but it's immediately replaced with a blazing determination. If he wasn’t feeling so tired, he’d find the expression arousing.

“Don’t say that. You’re not broken. You’re Lance, the man I love and the man I’m going to marry. But right now—“ Keith uses his free hand to gently brush away strands of hair from Lance’s face. “You need to rest and recover.”

“I’m sorry. I always ruin everything—”

“You don’t.” Keith leans into the bed and rests his forehead against Lance’s. “I love you so much,” He whispers. He pulls away far enough to stare into Lance’s eyes, blue-violet eyes blazing with the flames of determination. “And we’re going to get through this. Together.”

Suddenly, Keith’s lips quirk into a teasing smile. “Face it, Lance, you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

Lance laughs. It sounds alien in his ears, but the sound of his laughter fills the room and the way Keith’s expression becomes more genuine and bright makes Lance laugh harder. It's almost healing in a way, and when Lance finally settles, wiping the tears of joy from the corners of his eyes, he gives Keith his most charming smile.

“You’re really crazy, you know that? Any other person would’ve ran for the hills.”

Keith pulls up a chair beside the bed and settles comfortably into it, their hands still linked. “Allura has a bone to pick with you. And Adam. And Pidge. And Veronica… okay well basically everyone, but… I had first dibs.”

Lance groans in dismay, but he’s still smiling and it doesn’t surprise him how good it feels to smile again. To _truly_ smile. There are more things Keith wants to talk about, Lance can read it on his face, but they’re so comfortable in the fragile peace they’ve fallen into that Lance knows his fiancé won’t bring it up. Not now, anyway. Not until later, when they’re finally, truly alone. Lance enjoys Keith’s company for a few minutes longer, until Allura bursts into the room along with the others.

Keith’s grip on Lance tightens and as the others filter into the room, red-eyed and with bright smiles, their voices rising into a cacophony of noise, Lance relishes in Keith’s presence.

Apprehension grips him then. He’s terrified of what may lie ahead, but Keith remains by his side; remains his rock even when the demons in his head threaten to tear him down. He pays them no mind this time and slips the mask into place. For right now, he can pretend just a little bit longer.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so happy to finally be able to share this story with the klance fandom!! It's not my greatest work, but then again, when is anything I write _ever_ my greatest work? But, nevertheless, I'm proud of what I managed to achieve as this story was pretty self-indulgent. I started writing it in the middle of _Operation: Moonfall_ , which was a Persona 5 Big Bang submission that had its own troubles, so this story ended up being a great getaway from all the drama. It's very venty, I feel like, and because of that, it probably comes across as being weird to read.
> 
> There was no way I could end this story with a neat little ribbon because mental disabilities just don't work that way. And while I would've loved to write their wedding, it wouldn't be right to let them go through with it when Keith knows Lance isn't in the right state of mind. I wouldn't be opposed to writing a continuation of this though. (I just wanna see them get married, sob!)
> 
> Anyway, I want to give a very, very special thank you to the moderates over on the Klance Pinefest discord for hosting this event and the very cute sticker I got for participating!
> 
> Another gracious thank you goes out to [lizibabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liziscribbles/profile) for beta reading this story even though she's not part of the Voltron fandom ♥ and of course, thank you to Luna (ImaginationCubed) for the lovely art she made for this story and for being such a lovely partner throughout the process!


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